Armageddon: Remnant of The Imperium of Man
by JbGrenade
Summary: What does it mean to be a Guard in service of the Emperor? That's easy, protect the interests of Humanity and the Interests of the Empire from outside forces. What happens when a Guardsmen must chose between his duty and his heart? Now you are asking the real questions.
1. Chapter I

Chapter 1: To Crush Underfoot!

Armageddon, a world that truly fit it's name sake. Especially now, in the 41st Millinium, where war is what the Citizens of the Imperium of Man wakes to, eats to, and sleeps to. If you are even lucky to make it through the day. Whether you were to poor to get out of the Underhive and had to avoid the roaming gangs of Thugs and Abhumans, or you were a Gaurdsmen on the front lines fighting the Monstrous Orks.

This is the Second War for Armageddon. Humanity fights to survive against waves and neverending waves of Orkz, while said Greenskins fight simply for the sake of fighting. Orkz are a special being, a true savage in everything but word, they thrive on WAAAAAGH. Even growing stronger and bigger with each victory they have, or brutal act they partake in. Add that to the boiling cesspool that Armageddon is and the calculations have and never will look good for humanity. However, this has had an effect on the general populace of Armageddon, breeding tougher and tougher fighters to take the place of those that fall. With the Mobilized Infantry, the Steel Legions of Armageddon were slowly pushing the Orkz back, cutting whole swaths of the greenskins down.

It is the year942.M41, though the war wouldn't last much longer, that never stops the casualties from piling up on both sides. As Sergeant Foster would understand without question. The hardened veteren pushed his squad further, following the 'Suggestions' of their local Commisar. They pushed through burned out ruins and through the Orks that were in the way. They were not invincible however, but they wouldn't have time to grieve for the losses they took. Odds are, the bodies would never be rocovered from Armageddon's dusty soil.

The Target was a decrepit building over looking one of the many fronts of their forces. Said targets stood on guard calling numbers and strikes down on the orks far below. They were a squad of Ratlings, sanction Abhumans know for their incredible skill with the Longrifle and charm. The squat beings trained their guns on the guardsmen but quickly breathed a collective sigh of relief at the sight of the Mustard-Coated soldiers. The Ratlings looked back out the window, seemingly uninterested with the Guard that ran through the building to get to them, that is, excluding one. The supposed 'Fixer' stood inbetween the Guardsmen and his fellow abhumans with crossed arms. His duty cap low over his eyes, the Ratling scratched at his beard and whispered a small, gutteral;

"Report."

Sergeant Foster slung his lazgun and signaled to his squad. As one, the 8 remaining members of his team filed downstairs, securing the rest of building for a speedy exit if neccesary.

"We're here to escort your unit back to FOB Frank, where you'll be debriefed. I've been told to give a sincere 'Congratulations' and 'well done'."

"Stuff it," The 'Fixer' growled, noticibly lowder than the first he attempted to speak. "Throne damn them. We ain't leaving of our own power, we still got a fight to win and that's what we are to do!"

The sergeant, momentarily stunned by the sheer bravado of the stout creature afore him stood stock still. He might have saved the lives of the Ratlings if he had simply forced them to move, instead however, he was moved to silence by the obvious conviction of the sqaud leader.

"Look-"

The Sergeant was cut off from his rebuttle and order when a series of explosions started tearing through the city in the direction of the building.

"ROKS!" One of the ratling cried, diving for cover in the corner of the floor they stood on.

Sergeant Foster looked to the horizon as the Orkish Roks crept the way forward. The man removed his helmet and fell to his knees. His eyes were wide in horror, but he calmed hisself and raised his hands afore his face willing the words he uttered to reach the recipiant.

"Holy Emperor, heed the words of those who fight for yours,

I ask for forgiveness, for my failure to guide those you trusted in me, and for my failure to guide the faithful to safety.

Holy, Emperor, Guide the souls of men to your side, light the way with your holy light, so we may find our way in the darkest corners of the warp. Guide us so we may countinue to fight for you, in the materium and the wa-"

A bright light over took all that the Sergeant saw, and then, there was nothing. Only a warmth he was not familiar with, and a feeling of otherworldly wholeness. That night SGT. Cade Foster, of Armageddons 50th Steel Legion, 'Died' at the old age of 26. He had been fighting for 18 years of his life. Unfortunately there would be no respite for the Guardsmen, he was needed elsewhere. Where a swath of Humanity, like Armageddon fought day and night to stay alive. And by his creed, he was duty bound to spread the Emperor's holy light. By the throne, whether conscious or not, he would fulfill his duty.

AN; Welcome weary readers, step up, take a seat, let me explain to you my reasons for writing this. This part, like the story above, is completely optional of course, you can choose to read or you can choose to go on and read another story. Now, I have never been a particularly big fan of RWBY, but do to someone near and dear, I let myself open up a bit, and, well some of the characters in the series are actually really good. God, she'd never let me live that down. Anyways, the main point of this story is to see if I can make someone who had abandoned his Humanity for something else entirely. He like most soldiers of the Imperial Guard great at what they do, though that is often not seen because they are put against near impossible odds, thus turning whole wars into glorified Attrition warriors and who can resupply faster. I don't want this AN to be a fucking essay, so I'll just leave it with this, check out the Lore for The Armageddon Steel Legion, it will help, immensely. And no, SGT. Cade Foster WILL not be OP, as hard as that is to do with ANYTHING from the 40k universe. Let me know how I did, any and all reviews are welcome, nonsensical flames too, even heretics need places to vent. Till we meet again weary traveler, Emperor's Holy Blessing and safe journey!


	2. Chapter II

_Chapter 2; Litany Schmittany_

A steady ringing was all the Sergeant heard. He opened his eyes fully expecting to see the darkness of rubble surrounding him. Perhaps even large green beings standing over his soon to be corpse. Instead however, he was greeted by something the soldier's only seen through vox casts or posters.

Trees, greenery, even a blue sky shining above him. The thought of him being dead and ready to stand his watch afore the golden throne* crossed his mind. The flash of pain that came next broke that thought.

 _'Surely if I was in paradise I wouldn't feel this pain?'_

And so, the Sergeant treated this as a test and went through the motions. Starting with the naturalfl first step, finding a weapon, a lone stick he picked up with his good arm was going to have to do. His other arm, he observed with dismay, hung on wires and a loan actuator, dripping in red hydraulic fluid.

 _'S much for Mars' blessings.'_ Sgt. Foster thought bitterly.

The Sergeant began to wander, looking for both his lost gear and his lost squad. Surely if he was here then they must be as well. He trudged through the forestry surroundings keeping watchful eyes on a swivel. He walked for hours before he found something that was dreadfully familiar to the Legionare.

Afore him, laying crudely against a great oak was the upper half of Cpl. Clark. If the trail of dried blood was anything to go by he had used his remaining arm to lug his dying body to this spot. Sgt. Foster searched his comrade and liberated a Flash and a Krak grenade off his chest. Foster followed the Corporal's glazed eyes and spotted the prize. On the ground less than 20 feet from the two was a Combat ruksak complete with a Lazgun a few paces from that.

Sergeant Cade Foster put his remaining functioning arm on Clark's helm and muttered the rites of passing. The Sergeant hoped, that despite whatever place they may be, the holy Emporer still heard his sons and sent someone to guide dear Clark home. With a solemn gaze Sergeant Foster dragged his protesting legs to the pack, and with some difficulty managed to slip it and secure it. He traded his makeshift club for the standard issue entrenchment tool and shoulder the nearby Lazgun.

It didn't take long however when a new sound reached the abused ears of the soldier, sounds he was ironically familiar with in this strikingly unfamiliar land. Gunfire, screams, and roars, the sound of battle. And with renewed vigor, the Sergeant trudged off once again to seek the help of any of those still alive.

The man clad in yellow quickly braced his self behind a tree, so as to still hold the advantage of surprise. He used his thigh to close the shovel and stored the thing on his hip before gripping his liberated Lazgun with one arm. He gripped it near the magazine well and crawled forth slowly. In order for this to work he must utilize his only advantage.

To his shock, when he reached the edge of the clearing, he did not see a series of trenches or enbattlements. Rather he saw a group of children holding off a rather large bug of sorts. It was only when he bore witness to a large flying 'thing' pin the Vostrayn, that he began to line up his shot. From his prone position a quick series of " **CRAKS** " and _"Fwangs~"_ from his Lazgun rang out. They travelled the distance faithfully and assuredly narrowly crippling the bug. As it were though the 'Bolts' were effective on the creatures black flesh but merely made a sizeable dent in the creatures white Carapace before being dismissed. The creature having lost limbs unexpectantly came crashing to the ground just barely sliding past the red cloaked figure and ramming a quickly formed wall seemingly made of a shiny crystal. Following his training doctrines the Sergeant quickly picked up his rifle and circled around the flanks as to not be in the same position in case of an enemy returning fire.

The mustard cloaked soldier darted from cover to cover actively ignoring the children's lack of efficiency. He came to rest just aft of a small stone temple. And watched in approval as the kids seemingly ran off in to the forest, he dicided to follow them.

He was much closer now than before and as a side effect could now hear the beasts hisses and roars. Upon seeing the beast break free from its Crystalline prison and face the direction the younglings ran off to, the Sergeant's mind was changed in an instant. He felt anger towards this beast and using his prior observations, pointed his rifle towards its hide. With each bolt from his Lazgun a fist sized hole appeared in the beast, quickly causing it collapse in presumed pain. The creature had evolved well however, as it seemed to store vitals only under its thick Carapace. As the creature was writhing and screeching in infuriation. Cade took his chance after a small uttering of a Rite of Battle charged at the beast. With his rifle slung over his shoulder once more, Sgt. Foster bit the pin from his gifted Krak Grenade. His mad dash at the creature was soon noticed but it was far to late, for as soon the soldier was in range, he lobbed the grenade designed to take out armored vehicles and things of the such right at the beings bony face. The grenade ruptured the creature's face apart, tearing through the bony carapace of the creature like tissue paper.

Sgt Foster blew a raspy sigh of relief, for if that hadn't worked he feared his lack of options. He watched cautiously as the bug, even without the melted remains of its face, writhed and twitched. Once he was sure it was dead the soldier turned towards the cliffs arriving just in time to see what he had foolishly presumed to be a Vostrayn Firstborn defy gravity and carry the winged beast up a shear cliff. He watched in morbid fascination as the creatures head was separated from its body in a move he didn't quite understand. He approached one of the children, a blond with appeared to be white armor piece, with a limping gait. With the adrenaline slowly wearing off in the apparent safety of numbers. He truly began to feel his wounds and injuries.

He trudged toward closer and closer to the decaying old ruins, stubbornly carrying his objecting body to the still standing trio near the cliff. One of them, a female with mars-like hair gasped at the sight of the Sergeant. As the soldier was on the brink of collapsing he failed to notice the simple yet astonishing fact that none of those gather afore him spoke gothic, he did notice however the shiny vehicle circling above, ever so slowly decreasing in altitude with each rotation. As a hand waved in front of his face he looked down, a smile unseen behind his rebreather, and collapsed on the ground. Passing from this world amd into the dreaming one.

In all his time on this world, Headmaster Ozpin had never been more furious.

1st- It is a well known fact that the Emerald forest is a training ground and cease fire area. Private property as it were.

2nd- This man, who bore no easily identifiable marks of alliegence, none that were familiar that is, and with signs of blatant illegal human experimentation, if his arm and various organs have anything to say about that. Blatantly marched into the aforementioned training ground and could have easily killed his charges. Luckily for the man, who sat in an infirmery rather than lay in an interrogation room, all of his charges were present and or accounted for.

And finally, Number 3. The man obviously did not speak common tounge. Making conversation exceedingly difficult. In the sparse moments of his consciousness, we have attempted to ask questions but only got delerious words of which nobody can understand.

The headmaster paced in his office, hand shaking an empty cup in his fury. He stared down at a scarred young man laying alone in a pristine white bed, tossing and turning in a dream, or in pain, at the moment the Headmaster could care less which. With an annoyed grunt, he closed the feed and opened a different one when it pinged. On the screen appeared the face of his dear friend and assistant. Glynda Goodwitch.

"Ozpin, it's time for the assignment ceremony, on your call."

With a forced smile, the headmaster nodded, refilled his cup and stepped out of his office with a determined gait.

It was the sound of artillery and Roks screaming across the sky that Cade heard when he came into consciousness. Cpl Clark was shaking him, and slapping the side of his head before thrusting his helmet into his awaiting arms once Clark could see the clarity is Foster's eyes. The Sergeant nodded to his second and peeked around cover after strapping his helmet on tight. He saw Orks roaring and raving as trails of incoming artillery soared behing them.

"TANKS WHERE ARE THE BLOODY TANKS?!" Foster yelled into his comms.

"AS soon as we beseech the machine spirit, we will be right there! Fuel! Where's the bloody fuel!?"

Sgt. Foster bit back a curse and pointed to another member of his squad.

"Covering smoke! Now!"

The private nodded pulled a grey canister off of her chest, pulled the pin and tossed it. Soon a large billowing cloud of smoke covered the "No Mans Land" just in front of their cover. The Sergeant, though he was no coward knew their chances of survival were low at best, he heard a monstrous roar and the crashing beat of charging Orks.

"FIRE, BY THE EMPEROR, FRAKKING FIRE!"

The grey cloud turned a light pink as the bolts from the 5 Lazguns made a dangerous field of crisscrossing fire. Orks fell and their shadow grew and grew. As the Sergeant saw the orks begin to breach through the cloud of death everything seem to freeze. Cade Foster gasped in amazement when he lowered his rifle just so the bolt he previously fired could hang suspended in the air. His rifle 'snapped two' when he saw another shadow breach through the cloud, casually ducking or stepping over bolts that defied the many laws of sciences. As he stepped closer it became clear to the Armageddon Guardsmen that it was a Commissar garbed in the Mustard coat, and a respirator showing off a motif similar to a grinning skull, rather than the traditional black and red trench coat. The supposed Comissar swung his power sword in the air in a threatening show of cool under fire that was common with their ilk.

"Sgt. Cade Foster, former member of the 81st, current squad lead of a 50th Laz Sqaud, survived multiple battles and carrier of many lives. Now, as under the eyes of our watchful Emperor, he whisked you and your squad from the cold grasp of the warp."

The figure paused in front of the Guardsman glancing at Cpl. Clark. The Sergeant eye's followed and instead of Clark's soulful brown eyes, they were now those same glazed eyes he saw in the forest hours prior.

"The Emperor's protection can only protect from so much, he was bisected during the initial missle impact, my condolences, Sergeant."

Sergeant Foster looked forward again, into the black lenses that reflected his appearance back at him.

"You are here now," The surroundings shifted from the war-torn landscape of home to those of the beautiful rolling hills and forests of his new location. "To spread the Emperor's holy light upon these, savages."

The commisar stepped forward once more and removed his head gear to reveal a face the Sergeant was incredibly familiar with. It was Commisar Herrukt, a man he had been ordered to, by the man himself, to give the Emperor's mercy.

"I will be your guide here, and what I learn will be imparted to you, I am the connection to home and I am honored to help a hero such as yourself."

For the first time since Armageddon itself, Sergeant Cade Foster asked a question.

"Commisar,.. Orders?"

The Commisar nodded with a small smile, something that caused the guardsman's innards to turn. A hand was gently placed on Cade's shoulder.

"Your objectives are as follows;

1st, secure shelter and food from the local populace. Two, when able conduct reconnaissance and gather the threat level of the planet so the Emperor can guide reinforcements to you. And finally, help humanity whenever feasibly possible. For the time being you are alone on this planet, no backup, no friends, and certainly no armor. However, my time is running out, as we speak you slowly beginning to wake up.

When you do, do not be afraid, and be calm."

"Commisar please, I don't understand, why me?"

Herrukt's eyebrow rose in a mocking challenge.

"Why you indeed."

The rest of Foster's questions faded as his consciousness returned to him, as did the pain.

 **AN; By the Emperor did I take my time eh? Sorry loyal members of the Imperium, I've just been terribly busy as of late, but well excuse are assholes after all. What I wanted to say is this, I'm going to get back into this, this is probably the third time I rewrote this fucking chapter. Sooo, hopefully its not complete packaged dog shit.** **In this chapter I wanted to establish a couple of things, first off Cade's not invincible, strong willed and with out the fear that plagues most, but not a fucking space marine ya get me? Secondly, yes, Lazguns are strong, but so are they in lore, it just so happens that everything that is thrown at the Imperial Guard is so obscenely strong that the 'bolts' don't seem to do jack. 40k lore is convuluted in nature so writing about it quickly becomes an exercise in futility. Thirdly, yes, I have determined the residents of Remnent do Not speak gothic, as such Cade will have to learn how to read and write their language. Good luck Sergeant. Also, the reason Sgt. Foster called the one who was obviously Ruby a Vostryan is simply because of the red she frequents, something for the 40k fans really. Finally I wanted to establish ground rules. Firstly, the Sergeant is 26 as such he won't be ravaging any of the younglings of RWBY be they 16 or bloody 20, it'd be pretty OOC for this robot of a man to fall in love with children of such colorful personalities. Now adults? I can be convinced. Now then I'm sure maybe like only two or three people will actually read this part, so Ill bid you adieu.**


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